The Joys of Flying
by JimmyGreen98
Summary: Everyone, including the Professors, believed that John had been sorted into the wrong house but will meeting Sherlock bring out the true Gryffindor in the shy young boy?
1. Chapter 1

**THE JOYS OF FLYING**

 **Chapter I**

Being in his second year was no better than his first and it couldn't get much worse. Having spent 8 nights in detention, within the first three weeks of September, he was yet again making his way towards the trophy room for another session of polishing.

Of all the punishments, spending the evening in the company of Filch (in John's opinion) was the very worst. To be sent to Filch rather than doing lines meant that you had blown up the toilets or pushed a first year off the roof, and although John's crime was a little more lowly than this, he did have to agree that you couldn't possibly do anything worse. Second period that day, during the usual disastrous potions lesson John, again, made a slight error of judgement and accidentally created a highly explosive hair dye. When said potion did explode it caused the unforgiving potions Master's hair to turn a pleasant shade of rose - much to the delight of the rest of the class. So here he was now slowly making his way through the Castle towards what promised to be a delightful evening.

If he hadn't been wallowing so much in his own misfortune, he would have noticed a tall raven haired boy also walking against the flow of students heading towards their respective common rooms. The boy walked quickly and swept round the corners with a flourish of his cloak reminiscent of the great Professor Snape himself.

He finally walked up to the door and stood beside the vaguely familiar boy. It was not unusual to have company but one was never introduced to one's fellow troublemaker, which is why John was quite taken aback when the boy turned and held out his hand, "Holmes. Sherlock Holmes."

"John… Watson," he replied, gingerly taking the taller boys hand. Just at that moment, saving any awkwardness that Sherlock seemed to be oblivious to, the door swung open to reveal the caretaker. "Ah, nice to see you again Watson," he drawled before adding, "You know the drill." Chucking a cloth and pot of polish towards him, he caught them -just- and made his way over to start from where he left off the previous evening.

"Holmes. Pleasure," Filch appeared to mock, "I want that shelf spotless, no magic, in two hours or else your uncle shall be informed." Filch laughed, throwing the boy a his own pot of polish and rag.

After the two of them had been polishing for twenty minutes a loud crashing from above meant that they were left by the caretaker as he ran from the room muttering angrily under his breath.

"Right, well, with that sorted." Sherlock produced his wand and proceeded to polish the rest of his shelf with magic.

"When did you learn that?" John asked, hoping to learn this soon.

But disappointingly Sherlock announced that he had read it in a book last year and had forgotten to delete it, whatever that meant.

"So," unsure what to say John tried to make small talk, "I haven't seen you around much, what year are you in?"

"I am of the same age as a second year but take the majority of my classes with the third years and spend my free time in the library. I am in your potions class though because my uncle keeping me back due to spite. And yes before you ask, Severus Snape is my uncle, unfortunately. He has never forgiven me for following in my mother's footsteps and becoming a Ravenclaw." He revealed.

"So, if you're in my potions, I take it you saw what happened today." John sheepishly said.

"Yes, a rather unfortunate series of mistakes which I have to say lead to a fantastic new potion, I must try and recreate it some time." Sherlock mused.

"What?" He had not been expecting such a positive reply, "Nothing I ever do ends well though, the only magical thing I can do is ride a broom."

"Well that is to be expected when you have little control of your magic"

"Excuse me?"

"You are what muggles call a 'late bloomer'. You didn't gain your magic until your 11th birthday which just happens to be close to the start of term and you were injured so you had little time to 'test drive' it." Sherlock revealed.

"How… How do you know that? I haven't told anyone that." John stammered.

"Well I deduced several things through observing you whilst we were polishing.

"You are left handed, that is clear, however you preference your right hand. From the limited movement of your left arm I can see that it was a fractured collar bone with muggle surgery but you haven't had time to magically heal it because of your struggles with your school work. You don't get out much at home because of your sister. As it commonly known around school, your sister has drinking problems due to the disappointment shown by your father as she possesses no magic. You didn't go out in order to avoid your father as you hadn't received your letter. The only time you went out would have been a big occasion, so your birthday. You received the injury by falling onto your hand, and as this must have been the day you got your letter, this will have been the day that you first showed magic. Compiling all of this I concluded that you ran out into the road through upset at the lack of letter, straight into the path of a car. Instead of being hit you managed to levitate over and continue up and over a house where you no longer had the energy to keep yourself up so fell breaking your arm. To put it simply." Sherlock finished.

"I… how did...? That was amazing!" John managed to get out.

"Oh. People at this point usually use some rather fruitful profanities." Sherlock commented, rather glad that this wasn't the case.

Still being in second year, the inevitable question was then asked, "Do you want to be my friend?" and as neither of them had any real friends Sherlock's reply was, "I think that will be good idea."

At this moment Filch, fed up of nasty children for the evening chucked them out, both of them running out before he changed his mind.

Walking past the main hall a voice drawled toward them, "What are you doing out of bed Holmes?"

John shot round, standing to attention whereas Sherlock slowly turned on his heel. "Hello Uncle, we are heading from the detention that we completed and are now heading to our dorms. It is 3 minutes until the curfew so I would let us go before we break any more school rules." Barely waiting for his Uncle to scowl, Sherlock grabbed John and pulled him up the stairs and around the corner.

When out of sight they both broke into fits of laughter, "I've never stood up to anyone before," John exclaimed, "I think I'm going to like being your friend!"

"Well I have a proposition for you." Sherlock smiled "Meet me tomorrow at breakfast and we can discuss it."

"Oh, okay. Well, see you in the morning. Friend!" Now intrigued John grinned at his new friend and walked towards his dorm as Sherlock turned towards his.

As usual, John dragged himself out of bed and sloppily got dressed. The rest of his dorm mates were already at breakfast, they never woke him because they mostly forgot he was even in Gryffindor.

He ran down to the great hall and stopped in the doorway. He spotted a shock of curly black hair poking over a huge book and strode over, ignoring the mocking, but even he thought it was a bit ridiculous that him, the most unintelligent person in the school, was sitting at the Ravenclaw table.

"Morning." He greeted, grabbing a piece of toast.

Sherlock almost threw his book across the table in excitement, "John, I have a brilliant idea!"

"Really?" John mumbled. It was much too early to be that excited.

"I can teach you how to control your magic!" He looked extremely chuffed with this idea and John really couldn't refuse the offer.

"What's the catch?" John heard himself say.

"I just want to be a good friend and I've read that they help each other." Sherlock frowned.

"Right well there's more to it than that but we can work on it." John found his naivety sweet.

"I shall take notes!" Sherlock announced.

"Um, no, rule number one – no don't write this down. A friendship needs to develop itself, don't force it, don't try too hard. Also, each person has to have equal involvement, I shan't be talking notes so you won't either." John explained.

"Oh, okay. Well I need to finish reading this before DADA, so if you wouldn't mind… I'll see you in potions." He already had his head back in his book.

John smiled. Sherlock's attitude would have been considered rude to most but as the books title was 'Quidditch and its finer details' he just smiled and got up to get his books, leaving the boy with his new found interest, John!

Charms first thing had been a disaster to say the least. Flitwick did try his hardest but John had proceeded to propel the professor out the door and through a very old painting causing the occupant to scream so loudly that the professor was rendered unconcious. Those 20 points taken were probably quite reasonable.

He finally made his way down to potions and couldn't help but smile when he saw Sherlock sat in the seat next to his. None of the other Gryffindors wanted to sit anywhere near his cauldron.

"Watson. 15 points from Gryffindor for being late. Stay behind to explain, but for now get on with this calming draft." Snape pointed to the blackboard. That quickly wiped the smile off his face and he sat down rather sharpish to begin.

20 minutes in and the usual low murmur of conversation was creating an atmosphere that John loved to work in. No pressure of answering a question or that uncomfortable silence which felt like everyone was looking over his shoulder. Having said that though...

"Holmes, why are you sat at the front next to the class idiot?" Snape sneered, glancing at the liquid within John's cauldron.

"I couldn't see the board from the side and I have agreed to help John as we are now friends." Sherlock recited.

"You being 'friends'," Snape spat," will not improve his capabilities but will in fact hinder yours. Be careful boy, you have already made one major life mistake, you do not want to make another."

"I'm glad I'm not a rotten Slytherin, and John is no less of a mistake as your hair." He stood eye to eye with his Uncle before turning to John. "I am so sorry John; I can't believe I just brought you down to that level." How dare he insult his friend!

Before Snape could curse Sherlock all the way up to the headmaster's office however, John made a slight error – only slight… ish.

Sat in shock, John had continued to stir his nearly completed daft over ten times what was instructed which resulted (much like last time) in a small explosion.

This time however, his draft was very good but in stirring it too much he concentrated it. A lot. As it came into contact with their skin it immediately rendered them unconscious.

But, as John later would recall, causing the great professor Snape to fall asleep during a lesson was the height of calmness!

"And I want to see a perfect charm from you on Wednesday!" Professor Flitwick called from his hospital bed as John and Sherlock, along with their potions professor, escaped from the hospital wing three days after the fateful lesson.

"I shall see you tonight for detention." Snape whispered before marching down to the dungeons.

John and Sherlock walked in silence.

"I'm sorry…" They both blurted at once.

"What are you sorry for, I distracted you whilst you made a perfect calming draft. And I must say, it was absolutely brilliant!" Sherlock grinned.

"Well I suppose I did take down the all-powerful Professor Snape," John realised, "but thanks for standing up for me, another friend behaviour to tick off your list Sherlock. I am slightly scared for this detention though; he never gives them personally."

"It will be fine, at least we're together and then tomorrow we can start your tutoring and teach you that charm." Sherlock reassured him.

After supper, Sherlock and John walked to the dungeons, towards their impending doom.

Waiting until the second hand on his watch reached 12 Sherlock knocked on the door of the potions room. "Come," a voice called as the door swung open.

They both walked to the front of the classroom and sat at their desk which had two cauldrons set up.

"You are to create a laughing potion, complex and easy to get wrong. When finished you shall sample it yourselves whilst I give a drop or two to the Headmaster." Snape almost gleefully told them.

John's heart sank. He was going to die of his own stupid hand and kill the Headmaster at the very same time.

"Copy my every move." Sherlock whispered.

"Not a word from either of you or I shall make you collect the ingredients yourselves from the forbidden forest." Snape snapped. And so they began.

For two straight hours Sherlock would complete a step and John would copy not long after. They both soon had created similar looking potions and stood back waiting for their professor to finish marking.

Slowly standing, Snape headed towards them with two small vials. Filling these he then passed each of them cups of pumpkin juice motioning for them to add some potion, which they both did. He then headed to the fireplace with the vials and before flooing to the Headmasters office he said one word. "Drink."

'Oh God', John thought as he threw it back just moments after Sherlock.

"Sherlock!" John turned to see his friend doubled over in what appeared to be pain, but before he could help he was overwhelmed by an uncontrollable urge to laugh that bubbled out and presented itself, much like Sherlock, as a giggle.

After again spending time in the hospital wing, only this time with Dumbledore, the boys were given half a day to catch up on missed lessons. This only took a few hours (thanks to Sherlock), leaving their evening free to practise for the next day's Charms lesson.

The charm in question was the 'silence' charm.

Placing a small frog in front of John, Sherlock proceeded to demonstrate the correct wand movement. "See John. It is more of a stabbing motion. Just don't prod the frog…" John overshot, prodding the frog which proceeded to swell to an enormous size.

"Ruducio!" Sherlock cried.

"Sorry." John whispered, waiting for a telling off. But there came none. Peering up, John saw Sherlock looking puzzled.

"Why did you flinch?"

Surprised, John replied cautiously, "I usually get shouted at and then everyone laughs at me, especially when I have to then stay behind to do my homework because I can't do it myself. Even then I end up with a D. The highest I've ever got was a P," mumbling the last bit, ashamed.

"I've had P's before." Sherlock admitted.

"No you haven't!" John retorted, believing him to be lying in order to make him feel better.

"I have. In order for me to take most of my classes with the year above I had to take flying lessons with them or else my timetable wouldn't work. And I am quite ashamed to admit that I don't know one end of the broom from the other." Sherlock accounted.

John slowly smiled. "If you can teach me how to do this charm well by the end of the hour then I'll teach you to fly," he bet.

Sherlock paced before grinning. "You're on!"

As it turned out the bet paid off, both trying hard to please each other. John managed to perform the charm (on the quietest frog in the room) without backfire, which was an astonishing feet for him and meant that he could for once teach someone something instead of the other way round.

Teaching Sherlock to fly was defiantly going to be a challenge, John soon discovered. As soon as his friend mounted the broom he managed to slide straight off the end! So the next day instead of heading towards the Quidditch pitch for a lesson, John had other plans.

"Right," John declared, "you're coming with me." He grabbed Sherlock's hand and dragged him towards the lake, sitting him under a large tree.

"Now lay back and close your eyes. I want you to relive your happiest moment. No talking, just lay there for a few minutes." John instructed him as he joined him on the grass.

After the few minutes were up John dragged Sherlock back up towards the pitch.

"Now I want you to sit on the broom, close your eyes and imagine that moment again. Forget you're flying and just imagine you're back back in that moment again." So Sherlock sat on the broom and closed his eyes, after a few seconds his feet had left the ground and he was starting to rise slowly and steadily. John hopped on his broom and rose with him.

When they a few metres up John again spoke, "Sherlock, when you're ready, I want you to open your eyes. Don't panic, focus and lean forward slightly, okay?" Shelock nodded and opened his eyes, staring staight into the deep blue pair in front of him, registering that he was off the ground. Leaning forwards gently he managed to move, gliding smoothly towards his friend. He broke into a smile, "thank you!" he whispered and John just smiled back.

They spent a few more hours on the pitch until sherlock could confidently ride across from one end of the pitch to the other and land with ease. They finally made their way back to their dorms the happiest they'd felt in a long time.

Over the year, with help from Sherlock, John managed to maintain his grades at atleast an A but mainly E's.

Sherlock has gained confidence with his flying and with tutoring from John he was begining to surpass his classmates.

\- 2 weeks before the end of term -

"Sherlock!" John raced over to the corner of the library, "I did it!"

"I said you would, I couldn't see why you wouldn't," Sherlock peered over his book.

"I'm sorry I didn't let you watch but I really didn't want you to see me fail." John muttered.

"You really need to get over this failing complex," Sherlock started to tidy his stuff away, "you've had no bad grades for months."

"I know, I know. But now I definatly know I can do it." He smiled.

Madame Pince called from across the room, "Watson!" He shot around, "you know the rules, not even _Chasers_ are allowed to bring brooms into the library", she smiled.

John grinned back, grabbed Sherlock's hand and they both spent the evening flying across the grounds in celebration.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

After a lazy summer, both the boys were ready for their third year. Having written to each other daily they hadn't had the chance to miss one another, but they couldn't wait to see each other again.

"Sherlock!" John ran across the platform towards the curly mass of hair he had grown to recognise from a mile away.

Turning, Sherlock couldn't help but grin, "John. It's really good to see you", as he was forced into a hug.

"It's lovely to see you again Mr and Mrs Holmes." John was bouncing with excitment -very much unlike last year. "Oh," he turned and ran off as quickly as he had arrived.

Five minutes later, after Sherlock had said his final goodbyes, John turned up again, red in the face, with his puffskin (Andy) in his pocket and dragging his trunk behind. "Forgot my trunk," he explained as they both borded the train.

"You seem to be much more cheerful this year," Sherlock noted as John almost skipped up the aisle to find a compartment.

"No running on the train!" A voice called.

"Oh shut up Mycroft." Sherlock retorted as his brother stepped aboard just as the Hogwarts Express was pulling away from the platform.

"Don't talk to the head boy like that!" A seventh year hufflepuff scolded, flashing Sherlock a smile as he passed by.

"Gregory! Do not undermine me in front of the students!" Mycroft called, stalking after him as Sherlock and John found an empty compartment.

"That's Mycroft's boyfriend, "Sherlock explained, "he denies it but Mummy and I believe that they have spent far too much time together over the summer to just be friends. Also, Mycroft doesn't do friends as you well know."

"Oh." John pondered. He wished he could find someone some day but he very much doubted he wouldn't be friends with them first. "Sherlock, what are you doing?" He had just noticed his compainion who was currently stuck with his shirt stuck halfway over his head.

"I'm getting changed..." It was obvious, wasn't it?

"But we've only just set off, why would you want to sit in your robes the whole way?"

"If we get changed now then we can find out what everyone else has been doing over the summer."

"But we don't speak to anyone else."

"I can deduce, I thought it would be fun" Sherlock finally made it clear.

So John quickly grabbed his clothes and started to change, he had to agree with Sherlock, deducing was fun and it wasn't like they could annoy anymore classmates.

After a long journey but by no means a boring one (they had somehow managed to make several more enemy's) they were sat at the Ravenclaw table, after the sorting ceremony had taken place, and had just finished stuffing themselves silly.

"I'm so glad to be back," John mumbled, "school is so much better than at home. We can do magic, there is tonnes of food and I get to hang out with my best friend." He smiled a satisfied smile.

"How is Harry by the way?"

"Well she has a new girlfriend called Clara and she's really nice but it means she had more of an excuse to go out and drink, so Dad wasn't too happy this summer but he was proud of my grades." John recounted.

"That's really good. Mummy was pround of your grades as well and wished me to thank you for the extra tutoring." Sherlock said.

"Really?" John was tickled pink. "How was your summer, I forgot to ask?"

"As you know, Mycroft has a new boyfriend, and that meant that he was distracted all summer so I could do numerous experiments and he didn't even notice, it's strange what love does - I must explore that later. And I was able to spend the summer flying with Father so it was wonderful, thank you for asking John." Sherlock turned to then glare at a first year who was loudly proclaiming facts to anyone who would listen on the Gryffindor table.

"Now, this is the sort of stuff we should really write to each other about, not the outcomes of salting Gnomes like slugs." John then tried to explain to his friend.

"OK then, but I shall send an extra page with the results on because that is mostly what I do in my spare time." John could only agree with this comprimise and try not to ignore the last page.

Lessons in general were going fairly well and the two friends were spending their spare time out by the lake whilst the weather was still nice.

"Sherlock," John pondered as he tickled the giant squids belly, "why is your Uncle so unhappy?"

"What do you mean John? Uncle is quite content, especially when he is making others unhappy."

"No, he's definatly unhappy, he has the same look that Harry has in her eyes when she thinks no-one is looking."

"Well what do you suggest we do?" Sherlock added.

"Maybe if we found out why he is so unhappy then he would be less mean and you could be friends with him, you have a lot in common if you think about it."

"Maybe John, maybe. But let's just find out what's wrong first." He concluded as they got up to practise their flying as the pitch was clear.

"Well you are certainly ready for your first match." Sherlock dismounted, completly out of breath having had the run around by John who wasn't even trying.

"Well i just hope it's good enough for Wood, he's been really hard on us recently, it's because we've got a new seeker. If that Potter kid is half as good as he is in practice then we have a really good chance of beating the Snakes. Although, your brother won't be best pleased." John commented.

"I have no doubt you will win but don't worry about Mycroft he isn't interested in sport, unless you beat hufflepuff of course."

"Ah yes, I forgot he was seeing the hufflepuff captain. I don't think Greg will mind, in fact he's been giving me a few tips." Greg had been looking out for him, and Sherlock, recently and was like the older brother he had always wanted.

"Well hadn't we better get back and do our homework so we can have an early night, it's Halloween tomorrow."

"Yeah, sure. I haven't finished my piece for transfigiration, I have to write a foot long essay! You'd have thought that McGonagall would be more lenient with us." John had thought that she would let them off to practise but clearly she had more important things to focus on, though what was more important than quidditch?

So they headed to the Ravenclaw common room and managed to focus even with the excitment and complete their work which gave them the time to get ready for the biggest day of the year.

"Sherlock, Mummy said we were to spend the evening together as a family." Mycroft argued back at Sherlock who was not best pleased that his brother had joined their table during the feast. John and Greg, perfectly used to the bickering, were happily in conversation about their favourite pass time - Quidditch.

Just at that moment Professor Quirrell slammed the doors open and ran in, "Troll! In the dungeon. T-Troll in the dungeon!" He stammered, "thought you ought to know."

Of course as chaos ensued Mycroft stood to take control, loving every second of it but with him distracted this also gave Sherlock the chance to grab John by the hand and sneak out towards said dungeons.

"Sherlock. Sherlock! What the hell are you doing?" John demanded as he was quite literally dragged through the corridors.

"This is a brilliant chance to study a Mountain Troll in the flesh!" Shelock was almost bursting with excitment.

They rounded the next corridor to see the Professors piling into the girls toilet.

"No." Sherlock was gutted, instantly knowing what had occured but then he noticed something else. Still holding John's hand he dragged him back towards the main entrance and up the stairs.

"Where are we going now?" John, not having the powers of deduction that Sherlock had, was very much confused at this moment in time.

"To the third floor of course!"

"Sherlock. No! Danger of death if I remember correctly." As he was dragged into the third floor corridor. "I don't really want to die right now Sherlock."

"But you said you wanted to help Snape," Sherlock ignited his wand and carefully headed towards the very last door where soft notes of a lullaby were floating towards them, "didn't you see his leg?"

"No Sherlock, I didn't. I was too busy being dragged around to notice the leg of the potions professor, suprisingly!" Feeling sarcasm was the only thing between him and the black eye the Sherlock was just moments away from recieving, if not by him then by the creature that he was now staring straight into the eyes of.

"Fascinating." Sherlock was in awe of this giant three headed dog who was currently sleeping, lulled by the music coming from a harp that was somehow playing itself.

At the point where Sherlock decided to prod the creature in the eye John decided that it was his turn to drag his friend though the castle.

"John! It was perfectly safe I can assure you."

"Sherlock, promise me that you will never, _ever_ , go back in there again. At least without telling me." John whispered as they stood outside the Ravenclaw portrait. "Promise me Sherlock." Grabbing his hand, stopping him as he stepped though the wall.

Looking back and slipping his hand out of his friend's Sherlock stared him straight in his eyes and that look was all that was needed as the portrait closed and John returned to the Gryffindor common room.

It was the day of the match and John wasn't feeling too good, yes his team were very supportive, especially the weasly twins but as for the rest of his house, well...

"Don't fall off watson, we wouldn't want to lose a treasured lion would we?!" Someone jeered as he sat down with his team not being able to eat a thing (unlike the twins!)

"Don't listen to them John, I think they forget that you are friends with the best beaters in history." Fred, or was it George, grinned through a sausage.

This 'kind' comment did little to reassure him but at least he wasn't the only terrified newcomer. He glanced at the new seeker who was looking positively green and felt glad that he had had more experience on a broom than him so he might not be the centre of attention for once.

"Come on John," Wood then stood signalling for the whole team to follow him out, "I know how well you can ride John and now is the time to prove to the rest of the school how brilliant you are. And if you die then you go down a hero so you can't really lose!" Was that meant to cheer him up? John now felt as green as Potter.

"GRYFFINDOR!" The voice of Lee Jordon echoed across the pitch.

And with that john was soaring through the stadium, the roar of the crowd a distant inconvenience as he relished in the freedom.

As the match began John was having a challenging time keeping up with the other, more experienced, players (but at least he could keep control of his broom unlike Potter). Still, dodging and swerving he managed to get possesion of the quaffle and raced towards the posts. Halfway across the pitch he spotted a well aimed bludger making it's way towards him but no beaters. Panickly glancing around he spotted the twins circling below the Gryffindor seeker who was hanging onto his broom by one hand. 'Oh dear lord,' John had no chance of dodging the blasted thing, so he threw the quaffle. The ball soared through the air from a ridiculous distance barely skimming the bottom of the left ring, the keeper, Miles Bletchly, failing to stop it as it passed through, scoring the goal of the match.

"TEN POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR! THE GOAL OF A CENTURY RIGHT THERE LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" The cheers fading to a united gasp as the bludger reached its target wiping John off his broom throwing him into a spin as he plummeted towards the floor.

"Finally. You do realise that we now have to catch up on a weeks worth of lessons John." The irritated voice of Sherlock drew him from the comfort of sleep and he cracked open his eyes only to realise that he wasn't in his bed and the cause of Sherlocks irritation was the fact he was lying in the hospital wing absolutly surrounded by gifts.

"A week?" His voice rough from lack of use.

"Well you did fall a long way John, 80ft isn't going to land you with a scraped knee is it?" Sherlock continued to write on the parchment he had on his lap.

John mentally checked himself for injury and came to the conclusion that he didn't feel any pain, but knowing madame pomfrey she had given him some vile potion. Speak of the devil.

"Nice to see the hero awake," she started prodding and poking him, "You were very lucky that it was mostly broken bones, I can heal broken bones but you also had a nasty knock to the head which I let heal naturally for the week whilst you slept."

"How many?"

"How many what? Are you sure your head injury is healed?" She immedidiatly checked his eyes.

"3 to your left arm, 1 on your right, 7 ribs, both ankles and your pelvis." Sherlock interrupted.

"Cool," John mused.

"No it isn't 'cool' Master Watson, you have risked your health and impeeded your studies as well as Master Homes'." Madame Pomfrey scolded, "As you will have to sit and study for a couple of days and be resting you may leave as long as you promise not to eat all this junk in one go." She made a sweeping jesture towards the mountain of gifts at the foot of his bed before making off to another patient who was looking decidedly purple.

"Sherlock. Why did I impeed your studies and what is all of this 'junk'?" John enquired as he quickly got dressed eager to leave.

"I am your friend John so I didn't leave your side and the presents are from nearly the whole of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Oh and one from Mycroft." Pointing out the biggest one, "All something to do with you being the hero of the school or something to that effect."

"Me the hero of the school? What did I do?"

"You apparently scored the winning goal, I take it that Slytherin were winning by a long stretch and it would have ended in a draw if you hadn't scored at that precise moment." Sherlock started to gather the huge amount of John's stuff.

"I scored the winning goal? Wow!" As John collected the objects Sherlock had missed with a charm that had somehow produced a ginormous sack, "Wait. Apparently? Sherlock I thought you were watching, what were you doing if you weren't supporting me and Greg?"

"I was there but I had to attend other things, incase you hadn't noticed someone was hexing Potter's broom."

"But Sherlock, you don't just leave during the biggest day of your _best_ friend's year to get involved in something that's none of their business." He didn't want to behave like this but the match had meant so much to him and he had thrown the quaffle knowing that Sherlock was there to watch.

"But Uncle was involved and you said you wanted to help him. I didn't go into the corridor."

John sighed, he couldn't be angry at him because this was his way of supporting his friend. He may need to get his priorities straight but it wasn't as if he wondered off to poke some Blast-ended Skrewts.

"Look it's fine Sherlock. Why don't we leave here and you can tell me all about what you found during the match, I'm sure I'll hear about the game when I get back to the Gryffindor common room."

Christmas had been amazing. Having had an argument with his parents Sherlock stayed for the holidays although John strongly suspected that he had deliberatly started that one as he was pretty sure cauliflower had not become a problem until John had announced that he was staying. Harry had been sober for 3 months and he didn't want his excitment of school to make her feel inadequate over again so he thought that her having some one to one attention from his parents would be a great healer, plus he couldn't think of a more magical place to spend Christmas than Hogwarts itself.

He woke to find a gigantic pile of presents on the end of this bed. Most from his parents and Shelock's family but also a great deal many from housemates who still talked about his debute quidditch match.

He gathered them up in his blanket and headed down to the common room to find Sherlock and Mycroft (who had obviously had to stay, being head boy and everything).

"Merry Christmas John." Mycroft stated rather stiffly, clearly having just lost an argument to the smug looking ravenclaw who sat directly opposite him in front of the fire.

"Merry Christmas Mycroft," he said with a little more enthusiam than the older Holmes had. "Merry Christmas Sherlock!" he grinned as he let the present in his arms fall onto the settee between the brothers before he sat in front of it, buzzing with excitment.

"It is John, it very much is!" Sherlock replied still smuggly, John didn't want to know to be quite frank.

"Well shall we get this over with," Mycroft sighed, pulling a box of presents towards him, "I am rather hungry."

Sherlock pulled out a similar box from beside him and they all began to unwrap their gifts, some more delicately than others.

"Wow!" John exclaimed managing to propel his paper halfway across the room. He pulled a beautiful cream coloured knitted jumper out and immediatly put it on, the colour complementing his sandy blonde hair perfectly. "Thanks Mycroft," he grinned.

"You're perfectly welcome," he replied as he opened a gift from Sherlock which happened to also be a knitted jumper only this one had a 3D Christmas tree on that had flashing lights and tiny reindeer flying around the star. Before John could even process the sight it had been transfigured into a umbrella. "Thank you Sherlock, a much more thoughtful gift this year."

Again, John didn't wish to know.

Opening a box of watercolour paints from his sister John turned at the small gasp that Sherlock let slip. He was staring at something very small cupped in his hands.

"John, I don't know what to say." Not looking away for a second.

"Oh come on Sherlock, what is it?" Mycroft impaciently enqiured.


End file.
